


Every Time I Look At You...

by Gh0stFl0ra, princess_tones



Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: 1990s, Angst, Awkwardness, Drinking, Drunken Kissing, Gay Bar, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Piss, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29594865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gh0stFl0ra/pseuds/Gh0stFl0ra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/princess_tones/pseuds/princess_tones
Summary: The reunion's coming, and Peter's got more problems than just 20 years of drama. Namely, where he left off with Ace, and how he's felt for a while.
Relationships: Peter Criss/Ace Frehley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Every Time I Look At You...

**Author's Note:**

> A transferred RP between me and princess_tones. (She wrote for Ace, I wrote for Peter)

Peter could feel his eye twitching as he lay awake in bed. Why did he agree to this reunion? Sure, it was fun to see all of the fans show up, all the kids on their dads' shoulders, but, would he really have liked to do this? Especially now that Ace was with KISS again. Granted, he did have a chip on his shoulder from the 79 firing, but that needed to go. That was years ago.

Soft sunlight streamed in subtly and Ace's eyes gradually opened. It was a new day, a day like all others, but with the difference that it marked the date of the reunion. He'd been looking forward to it, honestly. But a feeling of anxiousness was not far behind the hope. His morning routine felt all the more sobering as he went through its motions, washing up and being scalded by the shower stream, just the way he liked it. The thought of regrouping with the others after all this time sent his heart aflutter in more ways than one, although he was even more worried about confronting one of those ways today, especially.

When Peter finally managed to get himself out of bed, the first thing that he heard was the phone ringing off the hook. He sighed, before picking up. It had better be the tour manager, or Paul. He'd even take Gene at this point. Unfortunately, that was not the case. It was Ace. Peter swallowed, before managing to start up the conversation with him. 

"Hi, Ace. Long time, huh?", he could feel the shakiness of his words as they left his mouth.

Ace's shower had woken him up for the most part. He wasn't sure what the hell he was thinking when he decided to do what he did next, though... Before he could rationalise with himself, he was dialling up Pete's number. The tension in him made his breathing rather shallow whilst he waited for Peter to pick up. Ace's eyes fell shut in half-relief as he heard that achingly familiar voice on the other end of the line once again.

"Hi, curly." He tried to keep his tone light, but it sounded too excited. Ace cleared his throat.   
"Yeah... Real long time. How have ya been keepin'?"

Peter shook his head, trying to think up a response. He guessed he should just state it directly. 

"I've been, well. Got off the drugs," was the drummer's response. He wasn't sure what else he could say. But, at least Ace seemed to be doing well. He guessed that he should be at least a little happy for the guy, despite the looming anxiety.  
Ace bit the inside of his cheek, part of a nervous habit. 

"Oh, those. That's good. 'M proud of ya." He smiled to himself at the thought. To hear that Peter was doing well was a blessing, honestly.

"Are ya excited?" He tagged on, sounding wobbly.

"As excited as I can be, I suppose. It'll be a little awkward, seeing you and, those two after so long", Peter started to pace around, just to keep his worries at least slightly at bay. Ace continued, his tone slightly wavering. Peter just blamed it on potential background noise. Maybe the Spaceman just had the tv on, yeah, that was it.  
Ace had to admit that was right, there definitely would be some awkwardness going on. At least Peter was upfront about the matter. "Oh, sure. But, it'll be like when we started out, except we're all old and uglier this time around, ahaha!" His laugh spilled into the air, one hand coming up to rest against his face as he wistfully remembered those long gone days.  
Peter just winced. Just like when they started out. 

"eheheh," he chuckled, beginning to twirl the cord in between his fingers. But, something creeped up from inside his mind somewhere. Ace probably wasn't too ugly this time around. The thought startled him, like an elephant being frightened by a mouse. Regardless, he had to put the thought away before it escaped out of his mouth. Why would he think that in the first place? He knew he wasn't gay.

Ace raised an eyebrow at Peter's chuckle and following silence. Perhaps he just wanted to keep certain things to himself until they met in person. Peter could be a very private person in general, and face-to-face meetings were probably more his style, too. 

"Where are we meetin', anyway? I forgot to write down the address."

"I have it here somewhere", Peter began to fish through a stack of papers on his desk, finally finding the address written hastily on a sticky note. "1212 Mulholland Drive", he spoke into the reciever. Hopefully it went at least a little better than what he was envisioning.

Ace scrambled to reach for some paper and a broken pencil as soon as Peter started to talk. The phone cord made a very faint noise of distress as it was yanked on by its unruly owner, but thankfully no splitting occurred. 

"1... 2... 1,2... Mull... Holland..." Ace murmured as he scribbled on his paper, probably misspelling it, but who cares? He'd just hand it over to his driver and hope for the best. It usually worked.   
"Nice one, Petey. So, uh..." He stalled, fifty thoughts running through his mind and ending up colliding into: "I'll see ya there?"

"I'll see you", Peter replied, before hanging up. Almost immediately after, though, he just wanted to flop back into bed. How could a single phone call stir up this much anxiety in him? Granted, he hadn't seen Ace since that one session for his album, but that was in the mid-80s. What if there were even more tensions that had built up over that amount of time? But, it would be dickish to leave the guy hanging.

Ace got himself the rest of the way ready almost immediately after the phone call. He would be lying if he denied putting in some effort, for a change. He did his face up a bit, used some foundation, some eyeshadow and soft, brown liner. He smudged it with a finger for a smokey end-product. It looked not half bad, if he did say so himself. The makeup, paired with a slim-fit, light beige tee and some washed-out, rather tight blue jeans, some ancient sandals, and he was ready to go.

Getting to the location ended up being a breeze. His driver thankfully was far better at directions than Ace was. He only had to find his way to the door, which was easy enough. He made his way up the courtyard, front drive situation.

Peter just threw on something half decent. Not formal, but not 'bar night' either. Maybe he could add on a scarf too, or would that look too flamboyant? Screw it, he was wearing it. Along with the gold cross necklace, and a set of sunglasses. The entire drive, his hands were slightly shaky, making turns slightly difficult. But, he didn't crash. That was the only thing he was focused on. Just don't crash. When he parked, he spotted a familar looking man outside the door. Ace? Yeah, that was him alright. But, what the hell was he wearing? Regardless, he shook his head, and waved him over.

Ace looked around as he approached the door, stopping in his tracks when he spotted a car pull up in the parking lot. He beamed as Peter gestured to him, quickly making his way over in his noisy sandals. He took in Peter's small, yet imposing, form, eyes lighting up in that familiar recognition as he drew nearer. His dark gaze slid down Peter's body and then back up, drinking everything in. The scarf he wore was a nice touch, and Ace couldn't recall seeing it before. He awkwardly threw his hand out for a shake by way of greeting, "Ack! Petey... It's good to see ya, really is..." He still felt that tremor in his voice, somewhat amplified by facing the real thing - Peter, that was - in person.

"Good to see you again, Ace", Peter smiled slightly, shaking the guitarist's well calloused hand. He went silent again, not sure what he could say. Other than a quick, 'Should we go inside?'. The two agreed, and entered the building. Peter was desperate not to look too harshly at Ace's face, but the obvious makeup made it hard not to. 'Ignore it Peter, it's none of your business', he thought to himself, as they were seated. Once they were, he began the conversation again with, "So, nice place, huh?"

"Sure..." Ace agreed, following Peter's lead to the building's inside. He half-expected Gene and Paul to jump them as soon as they entered the foyer, but thankfully, that remained an expectation alone. He trailed behind Peter, following him into a separate room. Taking a seat on one of the couches, he glanced around the room, cleared his throat. Peter's question was a welcome intrusion to Ace's already-rampant thoughts. "Mm-hm. What kindsa stuff do they have here?" He questioned, genuinely wondering if this was some recording studio and performance hall hybrid thing.

"Paul said it was a studio, but I'm seriously doubting some of that claim already", Peter's eyes traveled around the room, noting the fragile pieces of art on some of the tables. Unless the booth was heavily padded, those pieces would be broken fairly easily. Peter looked back at Ace, at how his eyes looked with the shadow on. It looked, good. 'Stop thinking about that, Peter. You're not gay. And Ace isn't either.' He thought back to the dressing room incident, where Ace had decided to kiss his penis. He could feel his face start to burn up, almost in shame.

Ace snorted. "Paulie thinks any place he's at is a studio."   
His eyes roamed about the place, thoughts of vague interest in the artwork bouncing off the walls of his mind as he took in the scenery. Perhaps Paul was even responsible for some of this junk, to speak of the devil. Those eyes lingered on Peter again, eventually, noting how he sat somewhat rigidly on his couch. Perhaps Ace was imagining that, or reading too deeply... But somehow, that faint red hue to the Catman's face looked fresh. Ace shrugged it off. He should stop projecting his own nerves and anxiousness, after all. 

"Does it have coffee, at least? I'm starvin' here." He chuckled, swinging a leg over the other in a lady-like crossing of his lengthy legs.

"Probably, yeah", Peter darted his eyes, trying to look for a coffee dispenser. Or at least a little coffee maker. When one was found, he pointed it out, before getting up from his sofa to grab Ace a cup. Just a little papery Dixie cup, with a stirrer. He got one for himself, too, taking a small sip every so often. He supposed that the coffee loosened him up a little, as he began to make conversation once more. Maybe the nervousness wasn't really warranted after all.

Ace gave a tiny smile in approval. He watched Peter prepare the drinks, and gratefully accepted the cup from him when they were ready. "Thank you, Pete," he took a sip, burning his tongue in that pleasant way. He dared to take a gulp next, wincing with a moan when the liquid scalded his tongue and throat. But it was a good sort of burn. "Oh, that's good right there." He murmured, nose disappearing into the cup again. He closed his eyes, savouring the taste. It was cheap, but that hardly mattered when anything could taste gorgeous to his hungry self right now. When his eyes reopened, he was looking down at his lap this time. "I've missed these coffee date kinda deals like this." He mused softly, a little smile on his plush lips, that were rosy from the hot drink.

Peter chuckled, but it wasn't forced or awkward this time around. The older of them took another sip, wincing slightly at the heat. He guessed that was one thing that they could agree on at the moment, besides Paul thinking that he could record music practically anywhere. Peter took a glance at Ace's lips, all puffy and red from the coffee. They looked like a girl's almost. The drummer ran a hand through his greying hair, before saying ,"I missed you, Space Ace". His smile was genuine, as he took another sip. "I really missed you".

A tingle of sorts went through Ace's lower body at the words from his bandmate. God, that shouldn't have felt like that, but it did. Those words had made him feel what could only be called 'lovesick butterflies' in his stomach like some sort of school girl, instead of the more appropriate warmth in his chest from an old friend fessing up to missing him. It was ridiculous...

"Aw, shucks... I- I missed you, too, Petey. Kitty cat," he smiled softly, glancing up with an abashed look on his face. His cheeks reddened. Deep brown eyes darted downwards again, avoiding Peter's handsome countenance, before he got caught staring.

Peter's face flushed equally as red, before looking away. God, why did he feel like he was on fire? It wasn't the coffee, that was for sure. He tapped his fingers on the arm of the sofa, before deciding to sit next to Ace. It probably wasn't the best move on his part, but it would feel more, personal, in a way. Like it wasn't a job interview or conference. Just two friends finally seeing each other again.

This time, Ace had no choice but to notice the flush that was on Peter's face. Especially when he came and sat right next to him, a move that kicked Ace's heart rate up a notch. As if it wasn't beating fast enough already. He distracted himself from Peter's warm body and nearness with a gulp of coffee. Cup empty, it was set on the coffee table. He fiddled with his hair, gaze downcast, wondering what Peter's intentions were for coming over here.

"Are you going to be ready for the tour?", Peter asked, even though he should have been asking himself this. He noticed Ace's downcast expression, and the way he played with his hair. Something was, off. The same kind of off that he had gone through this morning. Just as awkward as the first time, but with less time forged shyness. Peter took his cup, and another sip of the coffee, unsure if he should tap the other man on the shoulder or not, just to get his attention.

Ace thought about the question for a moment. He felt ready, he felt that adrenaline and drive. His emotional state lay elsewhere, indeed, but he figured he could leave that part out of his answer.

"I will be," his high pitch wavered a little bit. The hand in his hair carded through the strands, shifting their silky lengths a few times. He played with his wispy bangs next, shifting in the seat so that his legs were crossed the other way instead. "Are you ready?" He didn't look up, but returned the question.

"I'll do my best to be", Peter wished that this could have been easier, that Ace wasn't such a deeply wedged splinter into the hand that was his life. His brain kept flashing back to the seventies, the drunken trysts that they had, the games that they played while Paul and Gene were asleep. The nail in the coffin was the threesome with Connie. He remembered it too well. They were only friends, thank god. But, sometimes he suspected there was a reason for the madness that Ace pushed him into. Attention, maybe?

Ace finally looked over, his gaze searching Peter's with a soft frown. The guitarist leaned on the sofa back with his elbow, looking Peter in the face. 

"You'll do ya best to be? So ya aren't?" He pushed a wave of chocolate hair behind his shoulder, bit the insides of his cheek, causing them to hollow slightly.

"Ace, I haven't slept in two days. I'm nervous. Pretty sure we all are", Peter sighed, his hand shaking slightly. It would be a struggle to try to amend things with the others, Paul especially. Maybe this was a thought held by Peter alone, or maybe Ace was better at hiding his own anxiety. He knew enough about the man to know that he stuffed his emotions with humor or booze. Not much of a healthy coping mechanism, to him at least. But maybe the newfound sobriety was giving him a superiority complex.

A nod followed Peter's response, along with another look of concern. He wasn't sure if Peter really was as okay as he had thought during their phone call. Not sleeping for that amount of time sounded a lot like their '70s style antics, definitely not '90s material. "Oh, I'm nervous, too. But, not in the same way as you." He mumbled the last part. "And I'm here to help you now, in whatever way I can. Just let me know how I can help ya."

"Thanks man. I needed that", Peter gave a quick pat to Ace's knee, before going to get more coffee. Should he really be getting more? He wouldn't want to get spasms, but at the same time, it kept him from feeling the need to sleep. Maybe his own coping mechanisms weren't healthy, either.

The guitarist breathed out a soft sigh as Peter moved away from him briefly. Already, he missed the warm presence beside him. It had been very fulfilling to ingest the sight of Peter's attractive features up close, too, he couldn't forget that part. "Not at all. I love ya. Care about ya. It's what... Friends, are for. Right?"

Peter paused for a moment or two, agreeing with a, "It really is". Another cup of coffee, and a seat next to Ace. The two were quiet, but no words were needed. Peter smiled, before saying something he almost immediately regretted. "You look good with that makeup".

Ace was glad to be right next to Peter again. It was pitiful that he craved the other man's presence so much that even when he got up for a moment, Ace felt the loss of warmth. He had issues, definitely. Unresolved, sexy-laced issues. He stilled at the sudden and unexpected, but appreciated, compliment. Ace's eyes widened as he faced Peter's charming smile, and those deeply dark eyes. His throat and whole face flushed instantly, like a wave of vermilion had washed over him. A nervous habit had the Spaceman lick his lips. He then opened his mouth, closed it again, stalling and trying to think of something to respond with. 

"I do? Petey..." He settled with, glancing down with a deeper blush. He was acting like an idiot over a simple compliment! But he couldn't help it. His crush on Peter managed to tarnish every single damn light-hearted word the man had to say.

  
Peter spluttered, realizing what he said, and nearly choked on his coffee. He really just said that? And Ace accepted it? Oh no, oh no. Peter stood up, and started to pace. He didn't mean to say it, he tried to convince himself. It's not like he meant it in a sexual way. Or a way anything near romantic. His throat stung from the coffee, and the anxiety.

Ace's logical side, or fears, rather - was confirmed when Peter bolted from the seat. Worry consumed Ace's form and face. "Petey? Petey, what is it? Are you... Are you okay?" His heart was pounding fast in intense anxiousness and worry.

"Do I look okay?", Peter whispered, continuing to pace around. He wasn't gay. Neither of them were. The last thing that he wanted was for Ace to think of him less over a mistake he made in haste. He could feel his eyes start to well up, his hands shaking like leaves. The rhythm of his heartbeat made him think he was going to collapse soon.

Sensing the further shift in emotional state, Ace jumped up off the couch and moved towards Peter. He cautiously lay a hand to his bicep, gently stroking it. "Please... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel weird or anything, I just-" he broke off helplessly. He was sure that Peter was reacting this way because Ace had made the compliment moment into something else. Fuck.

Peter shook his head, and considered leaving the room, but, this could be his last chance to make things up with them. So, with no other option, he sat down in the spot he had gotten up from, and leaned back against it, still quivering somewhat.

Ace frowned further at Peter's silence and the way he escaped the touch. He chewed the inside of a cheek and drifted after him back to the couch, taking careful steps. "Peter? Peter, I... I was just kidding around. Ya know how I can get." He tried desperately, feeling the lies as they were dragged from his lips for what they were. Ace patted Peter twice, playfully, on the shoulder, hoping to get his faux nonchalance across. He was being a dick by turning it into a joke when Peter was obviously going through some crisis over the exchange, but he didn't know what else to do, he couldn't let Peter know just how that compliment had truly made him feel. Mildly turned on and a bit flustered.

Peter placed a hand to his forehead, realizing how childish he must have looked to Ace. He made a stupid comment, but had an even stupider reaction to it.  
  
"Ace, I'm sorry", the older man spoke up, desperate to keep the tremors in his voice low. Could the other man tell that he was still shaken?

The guitarist watched his bandmate for a moment, now even more worried about him than before. "Look, it's okay. I'm sorry I made ya feel... Like this. I can go, if ya want..." He clasped his hands together, for lack of a better thing to do with them. Ace felt like he was losing his grasp on the conversation.

"I don't want you to go, Ace", Peter replied. It had been too long, and he wasn't going to let a reaction yank his friend away from him again. It would probably snap his heart, if he was being honest with himself.

"I'm worried about ya, Petey. You're usually more jokey and casual." Ace's hand finally settled on Peter's shoulder. His thumb brushed his bandmate on the collarbone, glittery black nail polish twinkling with the minor movement. "Did ya... Mean that, or something?" Ace dared. He just had to know, even if he was scared to hear the truth.

Peter bit his lip. On the one hand, Ace did look good, but on the other, if he said yes, what would the reaction be? Would Ace get pissed off? Would he think he was a fag? All of these questions kept swirling around in Peter's head, as his lips struggled to open and give an answer.

Ace pressed his thumb in, as well as pressing the question once more. "Pete." He tried. "Did ya mean that? Did ya mean what ya said?" Ace was worried that the drummer either did mean it, and was scared to admit it, and thus, acting all rigid like this. Or that he didn't mean it and Ace was reading it all wrong and Peter was simmering in anger at him right now. Neither option was pleasant, and it hurt to need to know.

"Will you be mad at me if I tell you the truth?", Peter finally spoke, trying to ignore both the pressure from the guitarist's thumb, and his deep brown eyes almost drilling into his subconscious. It was uncomfortable, but less than having to deal with Ace not even knowing what was flying around in his friend's mind.

A swallow descended uncomfortably in Ace's throat. He was sure he would be mad. Well, upset, anyway. This couldn't be a good revelation on Peter's part at all, if all of this emotional turmoil was anything to go by. He glanced down to the floor, taking the heat off an already-dishevelled Pete. "I won't," he reasoned in a low murmur. God, he barely believed himself. "Won't be mad. Not with you; I can't be mad at you." He added on with extra conviction for Pete's sake.

"I, I meant it. But, not in that way. Ugh, how do I even explain it?", Peter answered, his throat drying up. He didn't dare look at Ace, for fear that he might have pissed the guy off.   
"I'm sorry", he added. His hands began to shake again, while he still felt Ace's stare.

If Ace didn't make a point to keep himself still, he would have been jolted by the words. Peter had meant it? But he kind of didn't, either? Not in the way Ace had wanted. His shoulders fell in deflated defeat. What was there to explain, though? Ace's mind was racing. And now Peter was sorry again? "Don't be. It was a nice thing to say. Made me feel good, for a change. You know how many times I've felt busted and ugly this week alone?" He gave a sad chuckle.

Peter's eyes went wide. Ace had seemed fine on the phone. But, it could always just be masking. Masking to prevent anyone to see what was really going on inside. Peter weakly touched Ace's knee, although a part of him screamed not to.

"..." Ace inhaled sharply, froze, having not expected the return touch. His breath halted for a moment, and all he could feel was his heart hammering away. He was acting way too much like a schoolgirl, and it was terrible, but Peter did things to him. He couldn't control it. The hand on Peter's shoulder travelled to the drummer's cheek, Ace's other had hanging limply at his side, almost awkwardly.

"Why didn't you tell me, Space Ace?", Peter asked, staring at the other man's shadowed eyes. It was upsetting to know that the man had thought of himself as ugly. Especially if he'd felt it for more than a week. It tugged at Peter's heart too much. Wait, why was Ace's hand on his cheek?

Ace shrugged, unsure why Peter would expect to be the Spaceman's first port of call when he was feeling down about his appearance and other trivial bullshit. He forced a laugh. "Last thing I need is to tell someone who's gonna agree with me, ya know?"

Peter felt utterly kicked in the gut with this statement. What he'd admitted was too vague, wasn't it? And why did Ace still have a hand on his cheek? Peter was going to get a migraine if this didn't stop soon. He sighed, wishing that Paul or Gene would come in, strangely enough. Better than having to deal with the tension and guilt slowly eating him alive.

Ace withdrew his hand from Peter's cheek when his comment went unanswered. Perhaps that had been a bit too much, especially after Peter had literally just told him he looked good. Just because it wasn't in the romantic, sexy way Ace wanted it to be, didn't mean he could try to push his friend. "Uh... At least until today, I guess." He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. This discussion was throwing him into all extremes of emotions right now.

Peter darted his eyes, tapping his foot against the carpet.   
"Glad that you could feel, a little bit of confidence", Peter nodded, before looking at one of the art pieces placed on a nearby table. He needed another cup of coffee to help him. But, he decided against that, seeing as his heart was already beating out of his chest.   
"You want any more?", he pointed to the guitarist's empty cup.

"I do, really do," Ace admitted, somewhat sheepishly. "And yeah, I could do with another cup. Thanks, curly..." Ace decided to perch on the sofa's armrest, straddling it with his thighs spread across its width. His hands were practically under his ass behind him as he leaned back a bit.

Peter decided to ignore that movement, before getting up to get the other man a fresh cup. He stared at the machine for a bit, trying to process the entire day so far. Ace said he had felt ugly for weeks. One part of Peter said to just leave it, but another said that he should feel horrified. He'd known and cared about the brunet for years, and the situation made him slightly queasy.

Ace's eyes remained on Peter, watching the other man's back as he busied himself with the coffee. His gaze unavoidably slid lower, to the man's ass, but he quickly made himself look away. A resulting blush nagged at his face and neck to teach Ace - and his roving eye - a lesson. "Put more sugar this time, Petey." Ace told the drummer's back, swinging a leg idly.

"I got you", Peter snatched up a few sugar packets, before tearing them open and dumping their contents in the cup. Another stirrer was placed inside the cup, before Peter returned to the sofa, and set the cup on the coffee table. He tried not to pay attention to Ace swinging one of his legs, but it was hard not to.

Ace beamed at the fresh cup of coffee that was placed down on the table before him, like he was seeing magic occur before his eyes... Again. "Nice one, Petey. Thank you." He snatched it up and blew on the liquid, before going for a gulp like the first time. Good burn. His knee bounced idly as he decided to take some sips. The coffee was starting to make him jittery, and all of that energy needed somewhere to go.

Peter shook his head. Where were they? He knew traffic could be a bitch, but it wasn't like there was a 12 car pile up on the interstate, or something. Regardless, he decided to lay his head against the opposite armrest, and stare up at the ceiling.   
"Why'd you want to do this reunion, again?", the short man asked.

Ace looked over at the drummer quizzically. "Eh? It wasn't really my idea... Blame G and P, the bigwigs." He cackled into his coffee cup abruptly, the laugh ending as suddenly as it began. "I just said I was open to the idea. For me, it's the camaraderie and the banter that I missed the most, forget the arena size and the chicks."

"I for one didn't miss little Machiavelli stuffing his tights, or Genie ditching us for his mom's cake", Peter brought up, trying to remember everything that had happened while he was in the band the first time around. Or maybe the banter Ace meant was just when they could be honest with each other.

Ace snickered again, and then smiled at the memories. "Those two act like a buncha children." He said it fondly, but the notion was Ace's unfiltered honesty. He downed the rest of the drink, and then stacked all of the empties that were on the coffee table. With not-so-precise aim, the guitarist lobbed the small tower of cups at the trash can in the room's corner. Key word, at, seeing as they only hit the outside of the receptacle and then unlinked themselves when they hit the floor. This amused Ace greatly, as he chortled away at the sight of it. "Oh no, curly! I missed!"

Peter chuckled at Ace's reaction, before getting up from his spot on the sofa. There was bound to be a reason why they were the only ones in the studio. He smelled a rat in this. Probably Paul setting them up. But, he could yell at the Starchild some other time. Right now, it was just good to catch up with Ace, after so long. No matter how awkward it got for them.

"Oh, you don't hafta pick 'em up, Petey. They look pretty good right there, like some makeshift décor. Much better than Paul's art," Ace smirked. He used this opportunity to shift, spread out on the vacant sofa, lying down and relaxing with his arms folded beneath his head.

Peter smiled, looking at the taller man on the sofa. Ace almost seemed, happy. And, at the end of the day, wasn't that the best thing he could wish for the other? Just a chance for him to be happy? Peter didn't know for sure, but he nodded, and peered into the booth, thinking back to their first sessions. He had thought Ace was a girl at first. An odd memory, sure, but a memory nonetheless. Peter's eyes flicked back to Ace, then towards the carpet.

Ace was watching when Peter looked over at him, and he inclined his head and winked playfully. He was feeling in higher spirits now that he'd chugged some coffee, and now had the whole damned couch to himself. This was living the high life for certain.

"Remember when we talked to that Connie girl about a threeway?", Peter asked, unsure why that phrase exited his mouth. It was a strange thing to remember, too. But, regardless, he didn't have time to think more on it, as he started to pace again.

"Sure I do," Ace cast Peter a sidelong look from, rolling onto his side with his arm and hand propping his head up. His hair cascaded over his shoulder, a silky curtain that was somewhat messy and tousled from being rested on moments prior. "You sure gave her a lot to remember, too. I bet she hadn't seen any guy that long before in her life."

"She, she hadn't", Peter chuckled, before walking over to the sofa, and sitting in front of it. The two of them had no idea what else they could say, so Peter awkwardly began to tap his fingers on the coffee table.

Ace laughed softly, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Heheh... I hadn't, either. You're well and truly gifted in the, uh, downstairs department." Ace rolled over onto his back once more, thinking wistfully back to the various dick sightings involving Peter and his huge... Ace gulped.

Peter smiled slightly, before turning his attention to a little pink note on one of the art pieces. That wasn't there before, was it? Regardless, he stood, and delicately plucked it off before reading it. Dear Ace and Peter, I hope things are going well. I need you two to do something for me. Just a little bonding activity, really. Could you record a track together? Thanks, Paul Stanley. Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, curly, did ya hear what I said?" Ace flipped over again onto his side, levelling Peter with a mock-serious look, as if he really needed Peter to humour his dumb dick talk. "I said, you're-"

"Look at this, Ace", Peter handed the taller man the note, before opening the door to the booth, "It's weird, isn't it?", he asked, trying to clear enough space for equiptment to fit. "Couldn't he have called us before to talk about this?", he asked. Too focused on his task to look at Ace, Peter groaned, and shoved the drumset the studio had in as best as he could.

Ace chuckled at Peter just ignoring his childishness completely like that. He got to his feet, moaning like it was a chore. He skim-read the note, face-palming at the message. The note ended up sticking to his head for a bit before it fluttered away into oblivion. 

"Paul Stanley?" Ace scoffed. "Who does this guy think he is?" He mocked, but grabbed one of the guitars that was lying around in the booth. It was in tune and had fresh strings and everything. That dirty Paul...

"He seriously drags us over here, not even showing up, all to leave some cryptic note about some fuckin' bonding exercise?", Peter growled, leaning against the wall. It felt like they were cheated, that this was all a joke. He thought it to be some sick game on the frontman's behalf. Set the two guys that left first to do some track together, then sell it claiming to be a 'basement tape' or some shit. It kind of pissed Peter off, if he was being bluntly honest.

Ace's smile wavered. He dropped his hands from his guitar, where he'd been noodling some unplugged, quick solos. "Oh, come on, Petey. I agree that Stanley's got some nerve and is sorta outta line here, but this could be fun for us." For some reason, Ace was actually feeling the idea of jamming around with Peter and coming up with something neat together. Their musical influences and styles played well off one another, after all. "We wouldn't have to listen to his ass wailing down the mic like a banshee, for one." Ace erupted into cackles.

"Just seems like common courtesy to just call and say, 'hey, I'm not coming in to the studio, sorry for wasting your time'", the shorter of the two grumbled. His expression must have looked like a scorned child to Ace, but at this point, he was too fed up to care much. But, he supposed Ace did have a point. Sometimes Paul sounded like he was being punched in the testicles. The thought made a small smirk creep up on his face.

"I know, I know," Ace agreed, running a hand through his long hair. "Don't worry about it, we'll get his ass back for this. I reckon we could knock something up together that's way better than any of his records, too." The guitarist knelt down quickly to plug his guitar in, and turn up the dials he wanted. "I'll make this worth your while." He flashed Peter a wolfish grin. "I'll get ya a drink or something." He quickly tacked on, pretending he hadn't just sounded awfully coquettish and like he was hitting on Petey again.

Peter furrowed his brows, but reluctantly agreed. As long as it meant getting back at Paul, he could do this. A few minutes of setup later, they were ready to record. Peter tried to use the drumbeat from an old demo, trying to match it up to the way Ace was playing. He was actually keeping in time, and stayed on tempo for the most part. He still couldn't get some of the shakiness out for the moment, but it wasn't like he was struggling to hit the skins.

Ace decided to take the mic at some point during their session, belting out some corny, basic bluesy tales and vocalising in-between the song segments for some added feel. He wasn't a huge fan of his own voice, but right now, he felt confident and even good about himself with Peter on game like that behind the kit. He even ended up working in a bass part himself after the main sections were done.

Peter's smirk grew into an actual smile, as he continued to play. The two of them seemed to fit each other like a lock and key. He even had to hold back the urge to laugh when Ace started singing. Not to make fun of him, but to just let some of that built up pressure go. He felt happier, almost, especially knowing that Paul probably assumed that they wouldn't even record anything for him. Well, this would certainly be a surprise for little Machiavelli. He didn't remember how long they were recording for, but at the end, the two of them stopped, as Peter rushed out to stop the recording.

Ace threw in a couple of seconds of a bass lick to end the song, just for the hell of it, right before Pete cut off the recording. Ace smiled at the floor, already replaying beautiful mental images of Peter happily knocking the shit out of his drum kit, a broad smile on his face. It made Ace feel weak at the knees. He gathered Peter into an embrace after exiting the booth, high on the recording buzz and the thrill of laying down some slick grooves with his friend.

"Oh, Petey, that was cosmic! Outta this world amazing, I tell ya!" He squeezed Peter, hands pressing against his shoulder blades and the small of his back. "I'm so glad we did it..!"

"Heheh, me too, Ace", Peter chortled, feeling Ace almost crowd over him. He wouldn't have expected this to go so well, especially when Peter himself was in such a sour mood to begin with. He also had to note, that the hug felt nice too. He hadn't hugged his Spaceman in such a long time. "So about that drink?", the Catman brought up, "Where are we going for it?".

Ace thought about it for a moment. He hadn't actually anticipated that far, to be honest. The guitarist scratched his head, mind running through the places he knew, but they were mostly out of town. After a high-energy sesh like that, he didn't fancy dragging Petey too far from the neighbourhood. "Uhh, let me see..." And then he remembered driving past one such drinking spot on his way here - somewhere that looked like it had drinks, anyway. "I saw one nearby, actually. Come on, get your shit, I know the directions. You'll drive us!" Ace cackled, thumping Peter on the back with his demand, playful.

"Alright, alright", Peter giggled, grabbing his things before leaving the studio. When the two of them had exited the building, the sun was beginning to set, and the streetlights were turning on. The sight was admittedly pretty, but the Catman didn't have time to look up at the sky. He unlocked his car, and turned the engine on, before ushering Ace into the passenger seat. "You lead the way, Ace", Peter adjusted his mirrors, before locking the doors.

"What a gentleman," Ace snorted as he stepped into the passenger side, settling back on the seat and tugging the door shut. He opened the upper mirror, checking his reflection out briefly, fishing his glossy lip balm from his front pocket. He applied it, rubbing his lips together to work it in. It was a bit glittery, like the cosmos, and he loved it. "Alrighty," he started, before launching into a series of complicated directions, well he made them sound sophisticated, anyway, saying shit like 'henceforth, keep to the right, decrease the speed and steer the automobile betwixt those two particular pavement markings.' It was a wonder that anything made sense to Peter, especially with Ace laughing his ass off at his own dumb jokes and directions.

Peter rolled his eyes playfully as Ace joked around, nearly hitting another car once or twice, until they had come to a stoplight, flashing red. The shorter of them looked to Ace, and stared at his lips for a moment or two, thinking of how tempting they looked, to any woman, or man. Another thought that Peter needed to suppress. Regardless, he turned back to look at the light, as it flashed back to green. The drummer bit his own lip, while still thinking of Ace's.

"Ack! A pterodactyl!" The Spaceman may have yelped out at one point during the drive, as well, which was just asking for a car crash, but it was well worth it for humour's sake. Thank goodness Peter could drive, and drive well. There had to be some kind of correlation between being a great driver and a superb drummer - Ace was certain of it. "Aaand, here we are." He announced, spotting the neon yellow flashing sign of the spot known as Sweet Leaf. Once they had parked up, Ace led the way inside, holding the door open for Pete to reveal an overwhelmingly neon blue and yellow bar set-up with a glowing dance floor. They had spacey décor going on, with cartoon rockets painted on the walls. Ace 'oooh'd at it in awe.

Peter took a quick glance at the place, noting that it was very much Ace's 'style', given the flashiness and spacey interior. "Should we look for some seats?", Peter asked, trying to peep over to the bar. The racks of liquor seemed to glow from the neon lights, a sight that reminded the Catman of stage lights, or those little lava lamps he would see in white elephant shops. He didn't hate the design, but it seemed, very akin to the 70s. The next thing it needed was a Bowie and Bolan lookalike pair making out in the corner. The idea made him chuckle a bit.

Ace's hand found Peter's in the semi-darkness by the entranceway, "Sure, I know where I wanna sit." He led Peter right up to the bar, weaving around some blokes that were standing in the entry gangway. He'd never seen so many dudes in such close quarters before that wasn't a gig crowd or another concert event. Ace settled onto a barstool, releasing Pete's hand and scanning the drink selection. "Hey, barkeep! Sort me out a bottle of champagne, and..." He looked at Peter expectantly. "What do ya want to drink, cat?"

"Just a Bloody Mary, but that's all, since I'm the one who's driving us back", Peter responded, scanning the room again. A pair of men were seated in a nearby booth, one with an earring sticking from his right earlobe caught his attention. A clear sign, if he ever saw it. Regardless, he wouldn't let one gay dude ruin a night with his best friend.

Ace repeated Peter's order for the barman, having to shout a bit over the music. It already seemed to be louder than when they'd first entered, but Ace wasn't too bothered by it. It was wavy, synthy stuff. As soon as his bottle arrived, Ace opted to pull the stopper himself and take a drink directly from the bottle. Floral, decadent, fizzy... Perfect. The ordeal earned him a few raised brows, but he failed to notice them as he took another swig. He wouldn't go too crazy yet, not really. "Mmm, this is good, curly!" He told the barkeep enthusiastically, before downing some more.

Peter blinked a few times, but wasn't surprised. He'd seen Ace do crazier things, thinking back to the time he pissed backstage, or snorted crushed up Viagra before a show. How the guitarist was still able to go on with his own brand of madness was a mystery to the Catman. He just waved it off, and continued to people watch, looking at another strange sight. A small, thin, finely groomed man walking over to the bar, in a rather, slutty pair of shorts, and ordering a margarita. Another gay dude. Odd, but not startling.

Ace set the champagne bottle down for a moment, licking the tasty residue from his shimmering lips. It actually tasted good mixed in with his glossy lip balm. The Spaceman glanced over to his companion, nose wrinkling as he sniffed from the sudden head rush he got after that last gulp. 

"Hey. How's your drink?" The guitarist questioned idly, the champagne bottle magically reappearing in his grasp and being pressed to his lips for another deep draught. The wavy music had him begin hip-grooving in his seat, a slow smile starting on his lips as he stared back into his bottle.

"It's, it's alright", Peter hummed, taking a sip of his cocktail. He didn't want to focus on Ace's shimmering lips, or the way he was nearly dancing in his seat. But at the same time, he wanted to be at least polite. Awkwardly, the Catman laid his hand on top of Ace's own free one, and began to rub it with his thumb.

A warmth travelled through Ace's hand as Peter's rested on it, his dark eyes sliding over to the Catman as he tilted his head back, torso arching in time with one drawn-out bass note. His eyes were narrowed from his head position, that had his eyelids lowering almost sensually. "That's good..." He settled forward again, wrapping his lips around the bottle neck and tossing it back. All inhibitions were gone for the most part, as he neared the dregs of his drink.

Peter just took quick sips of his Bloody Mary, trying not to look too flustered by Ace and the way he was moving. Still, he felt at least a bit looser, loose enough to hold Ace's hand, his cheeks burning up. Hopefully no one was watching. Because he wasn't even sure if this was a dedicated gay bar or not.

With that drink done, Ace went about getting himself another one ordered. The barkeeper didn't bother to question him, if indeed he minded at all, just handed the bottle over. Ace bit into the stopper and used his teeth to pull it out, getting foamed in the mouth for his trouble, but, he barely missed a drop, only one tiny rivulet escaping his lips. It ran solely down his throat, glistening in the neon lights. Peter's hand was the only thing keeping him grounded right now, since he was certain that he was drifting off to space, presently. He squeezed the warm hand in return, looking at Peter from beneath his lashes with his head resting against the hand of the arm he had propped on the bar. "I forgot to tell ya, I like your scarf. It's real cute, poppa."

Peter spat a bit of his cocktail out, before mumbling out a 'thank you', hoping that he didn't seem too shocked. Besides, Ace was presumably getting drunker and drunker with each swig, so the Catman disregarded any potential legitimacy from that statement. But, the more he looked at Ace, the more difficult it became to take his eyes off him. Or his cute face. He'd gotten older, sure, but there seemed to be more, character to his face. Sure, the drugs made him look more tired, but Peter enjoyed seeing the corners of his lips pull up into a loopy smile.

Ace's lips twitched before breaking out into a little, sultry grin. "Of course, Petey..." He pried his hand free from Peter's, and used both of his own to latch onto the scarf in question. He swivelled around on his stool to face Pete fully, ran his fingers up and down the scarf's material. His hands curled around the part that looped around Peter's neck, fingers that were cool from the bottle stroking the Catman's throat.

Peter looked at Ace for a moment or two, unsure what he should do. The sensation on his throat felt comforting and terrifying at the same time. Not to mention, he could feel stares directed towards him, from nearly every angle. His hands began to shake again, his eyes darting helplessly. Then, a strange urge came over him. Kiss Ace. No! No, he couldn't. He just couldn't.

Ace leaned a little closer, his knee prodding Peter's inner thigh as he shifted. He lowered his head, tugging Pete closer by the scarf as he pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to the drummer's lovely throat. It looked so edible and good right now, Ace just had to have a taste.

Peter froze, eyes wide, as he felt Ace's lips on his neck. He felt feverish, and close to nausea, as his Spaceman's lips did their deed. He didn't know what to do in that moment. Pushing him off would break the trust between them, while letting it continue would only lead to stares and mockery. He felt that there was nothing that he could do right in that situation.

Ace was about to turn that single kiss into an entire trail down Peter's throat, but he was overcome by a wave of desperation low in his belly. Ah, great, he was still human, after all, and had to piss. Quite badly, actually, to the point that he was confused at how the urge had gone unnoticed all this time, somehow eluding the Spaceman. He groaned and pulled away from Peter, one hand grabbing demonstrably at his crotch. 

"Oh, I gotta piss, Petey." He started, glancing around with his rotating vision. The counter of the bar looked like it was diving to the left, oddly enough. "Pete, you've gotta help me to the boy's room," he murmured, managing to get to his feet. What the fuck kind of instant piss urge was this? Perhaps he was far too distracted by Peter and the music to notice it building up. He glanced around again, snatching Peter's hand and reluctantly removing his other from his crotch with the last shred of his dignity.

Peter took a breathy sigh, and dragged him over to the door labeled 'men', begging that no one had recognized the two of them. The bathroom smelled like cheap cologne, piss, and tobacco, along with whatever air freshener the place used. Peter reluctantly lead Ace over to a urinal, before asking if he could undo his jeans on his own.

"What jeans?" Ace asked, sounding somewhat slurred now. The bright lights in the bathroom were making him feel somewhat confused. He bounced gently on the spot, reaching for his belt buckle and buttons, but missing them by about several yards, practically. He whined at the barricade to his much-needed relief, sagging against Peter like a helpless infant as he chanted soft pleas of how he 'had to go so bad'. Thankfully, they were alone in here, from what Ace could tell with his hazy senses, otherwise, he'd start eating into his brain's grey matter on reserve, having gone through the remaining fragments of his dignity, already.

Peter scowled, before undoing Ace's belt and jeans buttons, lowering them in the front so that the taller man's penis was out. "Please tell me I don't have to grab your dick", Peter winced, but something in the back of his mind told him that he would be doing that. If Ace was drunk enough to forget about his pants, he was drunk enough to need help grabbing his dick in order to piss.

"Ah, thank you, Pete." Ace murmured, already starting to let go, despite not having a hold of his member. He sighed in the beginnings of relief, as the stream dribbled to unsuitable places, all of which were not the bowl of the urinal. "Grab it, poppa," he drawled, almost inaudibly, eyes slipping shut. Somehow, he was aware and coherent enough to grab Peter's hand, or rather, fumble to reach it. "You... Gotta help me." He implored, sounding whiny.

Peter hissed as he reluctantly grabbed onto the taller man's penis, aiming it towards the urinal. He could feel his eye twitch. This was not how he wanted to end his day. Stuck in the bathroom at a bar, after his friend kissed him on the throat. The sensation in his hand was only made worse by the fact that he may have gotten a few drops of piss on his hand. Disgusting.

The last of his piss trickled out, drawing an obscenely horny moan from the Spaceman, who had a tendency to become aroused by such things - holding it, coupled with the relief. He could feel his dick stiffen somewhat in Peter's grasp, and his hips pulsing forward responsively, pushing into the touch with a soft grunt. He was fucked... "Oh, daddy... Mmm." He leaned into Peter, hand clawing up the drummer's torso as he turned into him.

Peter was thoroughly done with this, still irritated by his antics, and the fact his hand had piss on it. Peter said nothing, choosing to yank his dirty hand away and scrub it in the nearby sink. His head felt like it was spinning, not just from the cocktail. After he dried his hands, the drummer redid Ace's buttons and reattached his belt, but his eyes seemed to be filled with shame.

"H-Hey, I'm not finished with ya, Peter." Ace got out, drifting back to the Catman's side and trying to loop his arms around his sculpted body. Some part of Ace's mind was sincerely thankful for Peter sorting his clothes out for him, something he'd appreciate better much later, he reckoned. However, for now, he was too turned on by Peter touching his dick, probably for the first time ever, too, and the relief that had flooded his body post-piddle. It was a lot for his currently sensitive body. "Gotta repay you, let me suck ya off." He blurted, one hand getting too close to Peter's groin.

"Hell no", Peter snapped, his hand moving before his brain, slapping Ace in the cheek. He didn't realize what he had done until his hand stung, and Ace's cheek was red from the slap. The Catman's eyes widened, and he struggled to say a word. What could he say at this point?

"Ah..!" Ace yelped with the impact, not quite anticipating it and any half-raising his hands, but failing to get them in the way on time. His hand came up gradually and rested on his ruby cheek, eyes glossy as he turned a wobbly stare on his friend. His mouth remained open, taken aback, but... Feeling that he had sort of earned that, at the same time. 

"Ow, Pete, that hurt," was all he could make himself say, still ogling his mate as if he couldn't believe it all over again. He looked down in shame after a while, alternating between glaring at Pete and staring down the bathroom tiles. He turned away, facing the wall almost stonily.

Peter stood still, in shock. He hurt him. He hurt his best friend. Tears began to well up in his eyes, as he sniffled. He couldn't do anything. And it felt like a kick in the chest as Ace faced the wall. They'd been happy just a few hours ago, and up until Peter was kissed. The only thing he could think to do was cry. Like a goddamned baby.

Ace's hands ascended into his hair, pulling helplessly on the strands, as if they would kick his brain back into gear. He felt a sob rising in his chest, his head connecting with the bathroom wall as he staggered away from Peter, aimless. He wanted to erase this, all of this. He was a fuck-up! An audible noise of distress left his throat.

"Fuck... I fucked up, I fucked up so bad... Fuck me. I'm a fuckin'... Ugh!" He told the wall desperately.

Peter shook, before nearly collapsing to the floor. The stress was going to hurt him, more than the slap hurt his Spaceman. He felt like he was digging himself into a deeper and deeper pit, until he'd never be able to see the stars again, not even if he looked straight up. He had no words left in him.

Ace turned around abruptly, noticing that Peter was still far away from him. Why was he just standing there? All wobbly, but nowhere near the Spaceman. So, he'd slapped him, and now wanted to cave in on himself as if the slap had not occurred? Ace staggered to the drummer, ignoring the hint of fury he felt, mostly at himself, and just threw his arms around him. 

"It's okay, Petey. Ya slapped me, but I deserved it, okay? Talk to me. Please. I'm sorry... I overstepped the- the line, I crossed the fuckin' line..."

Peter continued to weep, too scared to touch the other man. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry", he repeated, eyes bloodshot and face wet with tears. His knees felt weak, and his stomach sick. He didn't know what he could do. Until he did it. In the flash of a second, he felt his own lips on Ace's. It wouldn't help at all, he noted too late.

Ace felt his chest tighten, anguished at the sight of Peter crying like this, so raw, right in front of him. It was unseen and unheard of. He felt a pang of an urge to protect him right there, but the feeling was forced into the passenger seat as Peter did what he did next. Ace gasped against his soft lips, feeling his stomach flip over, and his head spin with dizziness. Peter... Had kissed him. Was kissing him. His instincts took over, discarding the initial shock instantly and greedily, as he captured Pete's lower lip between his own plush pair. His fingers scrunched up the clothing on Peter's back, a soft half-moan sounding in his throat.

Peter let him do it, almost smelling the alcohol on his breath, but what else could he do? He slowly snaked his arms around Ace, touching his mid back. He didn't want to break this, his eyes closing as he felt the plushness of his Spaceman's mouth on his own. The tears stopped flowing, as the shorter man pinched the guitarist's back. Something was bubbling up in his chest, and he knew it wasn't the acid of his drink coming up to burn him.

Ace ended up nipping Peter's inner lip gently, just teasing ever so softly at the flesh with his teeth. An indulgent moan escaped the lead guitarist, as he angled his head to one side and swept his tongue up Peter's bottom lip, tasting the aftermath of his drink just vaguely. It couldn't be anywhere near as potent as his own aftertaste, surely, but he enjoyed the hint of the alcohol, mixed in with Peter's mouth. Ace went beneath the drummer's shirt with his roaming hands, feeling up the smooth expanse of skin and letting out an appreciative, elongated hum at the tactile revelation. Oh, how he had dreamed of doing this - doing this to Peter. All those nights that he'd fapped over it in bed at night, or in the showers, with no drop of excusing alcohol in his system...

Peter hummed, lifting up Ace's beige t shirt, and touched the small of his back. He could feel dimples near his tailbone when his own hands went lower. He was warm, and looked to be, happier, just by touch. Peter moved his hands towards Ace's stomach, to touch the even warmer skin. He felt like this was his heaven now, as a wave of calm washed over him.

Ace had the foresight, somehow, to maneuver the lip-locking pair over into one of the two stalls at the back, pulling apart from Peter for a moment as they shifted over there. He pressed Peter into the stall wall, dragging a knee up to bump into the other man's crotch, feeling for the arousal that Ace hoped to find there, already semi-mast himself. He was aching silently for Peter to touch him there, but he knew that what they had going on already was a lot to ask for in itself. He shuddered at those warm hands that rested on his belly, another satisfied purr of a moan sounding from the guitarist.

Peter murmured something that only came out as breaths. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that the two of them were together, happy enough. He stared up at his Spaceman-no, his Ace. The other's eyes were sleepy, but he could see him. Peter tried his best to wrap his arms around Ace's shoulders before breaking the kiss.   
"I think I love you", he mumbled under his breath.

Ace's jaw dropped, soundless and stunned into silence for a very different reason presently. The kiss was enough on its own to shut him up, but this... This confession... Was Peter drunk? No, he couldn't be. He'd had one drink, and probably not even all of it, if Ace's hazy memory was anything to go by. He swallowed and brought his hands to Peter's face, cradling it. "I... I love you, too, Peter." Ace admitted, glancing away abashedly, before gazing back into Peter's shadowy, homely eyes. So comforting, so rich... Ace wanted to drown in them.

Peter chuckled, removing his hands from Ace's back, and touching the hands his Spaceman had put near his face. He held them, and flushed red. He presented a kiss to Ace's forehead, standing on his toes to do so.   
"I love you so much", the shorter of them spoke.

Ace gave a shaky, rather shy smile as he was kissed on the forehead, feeling somewhat coy at the notion of being treated so sweetly by Peter. The man who, apparently, loved him, too. Ace was reeling on the inside from that revelation. It was a lot to take in, even in his drunken state. Reconnecting with Peter after all this time, and ending up here, in his embrace, kissing, opening up to feelings for one another... "Damn it, curly," Ace slumped onto Peter, hugging him.

Peter just smiled, and accepted the hug. The two of them needed this. It had been too long. Too long without being honest. Too long with hiding. He sighed, nuzzling into the Spaceman.

"We should probably get out of the bathroom, though", the Catman noted.


End file.
